Having managed to put on a brave front and get over the melodrama about aging this week, Poppy had found herself very excited for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, her final break away from Hogwarts. Today was the Potts Flower Show and tomorrow she’d be off to the races! Her cousin Atticus (and his family) were sponsoring the event along with the Blackwoods and it was bound to be quite the exciting endeavor. It had been the talk of the castle all week and Poppy was one of the few, if any students, that had a note written essentially excusing her from curfew this evening. She was going to stay at Foxwood House tonight and then march off first thing in the morning with the rest of her family to the derby. This was Poppy’s final Hogsmeade weekend… ever. At least as a student. As she walked through a massive display of florals, she tried to keep nostalgia at bay. Today, before they parted ways, Poppy wanted to do everything she and June had always done - the traditions they’d started - on these many splendored escapes from the castle grounds.

Pausing just in front of a brilliant display of peonies, Poppy tilted her head to the right just slightly. They were absolutely astounding. Every petal looked as soft as satin. Gathering a few heads between her gloves, the brunette sniffed pillowy blossoms. How she adored peonies. They were a wonderful symbol of bashfulness too, not an ostentatious floral in the least. Mix in a few violets and some baby’s breath, and one had the perfect debutante arrangement: purity, loveliness, and a complete lack of personality. She was lucky enough to have steered her mother from it for her debut ball. Instead, Georgiana Dashwood had latched onto a French blue accent color for the event. It tinged the invitations, the decor, and even some of the linens but for florals, at least, Poppy had managed to convince her mother less was more; they’d decided together that peonies, alone, would do. (Amidst the sea of white, white, purity, white - it was a welcome accessory.)

As a familiar voice chirped just over her shoulder, Poppy turned to see Juniper motion towards another tent.  She nodded and moved to follow the Slytherin towards the workshop. There were a few familiar faces, mostly other students, already milling about. As the two found a space and settled in, she couldn’t help but laugh as she set aside her coin purse. “Send him some orange blossoms,” she quipped playfully. “That’ll really confuse him.” Poppy grinned at her friend, thinking about just how amusing it would be for the man to receive such a gift from an anonymous source. He’d likely preen thinking he had a secret admirer when in reality, coupled with some ivy, orange blossom really just meant eternal friendship.

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